


Love Can't be Taught

by FlickerInTheDark



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual relationship, F/M, Sad, School, Slow Build, Trust, student, teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8658046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlickerInTheDark/pseuds/FlickerInTheDark
Summary: Very slow E/C fanfiction. Christine is sent to a new school and is given private lessons. She has no intent to start a relationship but when does what will become of her? No Raoul hate. Fluffy and pointless





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I must warn you on the outset this story has been sitting on my laptop for god knows how long. I wrote this when I was 16 and was new to this. I didn’t publish it because it isn’t my best work but hey why not. I have been editing this story to not sound like a 16 year old newbie. I may add more chapters if it this goes well.

I was on a train. I was on my way to my new school. My mother had sent me packing after my father’s death. That was her way of doing things, get things over with as fast as possible. The less time to dwell the better. She never lived in the moment and always sought the next moment, good or bad. This was such a case. My father had died relatively young from pneumonia, he was only 59. He had a can-do attitude and always ignored his needs because he was so worried about everyone else. The doctors said if he had come in sooner he would have most likely survived. 

That was a month ago. The funeral and legal stuff were finished and his stuff boxed up given away. My mother would have it no other way. But I was still mourning. How could I not? But my mother thought it best I leave the city, away from home and away from the memories. My mother was a doctor, very rigid and analytical.

But she wasn’t being mean, she knew my talents were with the arts and decided to send me to a boarding school. Gaston Leroux’s school for the Dramatic and Visual Arts. It was a very small high school judging from the brochure. Only about 400 students, 100 in each grade give or take. The brochure listed many stars who had graduated and most who graduated went on to esteemed arts universities. Many went to Julliard, but those who were talented enough were able to start their careers.

I was surprised when I got in; my mother had arranged a private audition. She was a leading neurologist and had become affluent. So maybe it was the money or maybe my talent, but I was accepted in the end. I thought it odd my mother to send me away now. I was a rising senior at my high school and it didn’t make sense to transfer schools if I had only a year to go. But no matter, it wasn’t as if I was leaving all that much behind. I would only miss my boyfriend Raoul but he didn't even go to our school. He had graduated a year early and was now attending NYU.

I had only a suitcase and a dufflebag with me and I felt alone. The school would be very different from my public high school with 3000 students. There were uniforms and felt like Hogwarts. I knew I was but a few hours from home but as the skyscrapers became forests it felt foreign.

I was thank goodness, not going to be the new kid coming that comes in the middle of March. I was starting the same day as everyone else. But after a taxi to the school, I realized how little I packed. I saw people rolling trollies into the various dorm building. My building was very odd not a new apartment-style one like the rest. It looked like it came out of some fantasy book with the stone facade and wooden shutters. I was placed in a single room rather than a two-person room which was unusual since the women at registration had made very clear the living situation.

I asked the woman who led me to my building and she said, “ Building S is for students who have exceptional talent and require a private room to study or practice in.”

“But I didn't know about that. I had written down Dormitory A,” I had responded. When I had to decide where I lived I picked the cheapest option even though there were nicer buildings, because my mother was already spending quite a bit to send me here.

“Well you landed here,” she shrugged and pushed me along.

I walked into the surprisingly spacious lobby. It had a large empty fireplace and large painting on the walls. It looked like it had not changed since the 1900s.

“Welcome, I trust you are Christine Daae?” a tall dark haired woman said.

“Yes ma’am,” I said.

“I am the staff in residence. My name is Madame Giry,” she said sticking her hand out to shake.

I shook her hand. This woman had a strong grip that made it clear she took no funny business. She led me to my room which was just upstairs.

“As you will see Building S is those who showed exceptional talent at their audition. There are in total 34 students who live here. My daughter lived across the hall from you in fact,” she said.

“I will be glad to meet her,” I said shyly.

I was left to unpack my suitcase, which took half an hour. I hung up my 5 identical uniforms and my spare clothes. I unloaded my textbooks and reread my schedule. Classes started tomorrow September 6th.

Monday, Wednesday and Friday

7:00-9:25 Classical European Literature - Hudson

9:30- 11:25 Calculus III-Fawkes

11:30- 12:20 Lunch

12:30- 2:25 Chemistry- Wilson

2:30-4:25 World History- Gold

 

Tuesday and Thursday

 

9:00-12:00 Acting Theory- Foster

12:00-1:15- Lunch

1:30-4:30 Mixed Classical Dance- Giry

7:00- 10:00 Private Vocal training-unknown

I had finished reading my schedule when a bouncy blonde came into my room.

“Hi! I’m Megan Giry! Call me Meg. My mother says you’re new,” she said shaking my hand enthusiastically with both hands.

“Christine Daae. I met you mother a few minutes ago,” I said a bit shaken. Meg was the first person I had seen who was happy in a while.

“Yeah, my mother. She teaches dance. Are you in Mixed Classical Dance?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said handing my schedule to Meg.

“You have a Vocal track. I am on the Dance track. Who would have guessed the daughter of the dance instructor being a dancer,” Meg laughed.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Simple. Everyone had a private class with a specialized instructor. It’s the only way this school churns out so many award winners. I bet you can guess my private instructor?”

“Your mother?”

“Yes. It’s simply horrendous!” Meg sighed.

“It seems we just have dance together. That’s okay! At least I won't have to suffer alone.”

“Suffer?”

“Yeah, the girls on the dance track are pretty snippy. Some aren’t but most are,” Meg scowled, “mostly at me. They think I get special attention, but they all have their own private instructors. My mother tried to transfer me to another teacher but I am the top dancer and my mom is the top dance instructor.”

“Noted,” I laughed. I hadn’t smiled for a while.

“Oh my mom wanted me to give you this,” Meg said thrusting a piece of paper out. I noticed it was a scribbled on blank music sheet.

_Miss Daae,_

_Welcome to the school. I will be your vocal teacher. You need not know my name but rest assured you will. I am asking you to meet me in the music hall building 5 room 1260 tonight at 6. I wish to introduce myself before lessons._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Teacher_

“So?”

“My vocal teacher wants to meet with me tonight at 6 I guess,” I said.

“Poo! You’ll miss all the welcoming activities,” Meg bemoaned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More babble from when I was 16 and had no idea how to write fanfiction. I have fixed it up so it is more readable. Please enjoy.

That evening I went to the music hall after Meg pointed me the correct direction. I slipped on one of the school uniforms. Meg had said that if you were meeting with a teacher of any sort you should wear the uniform. Strange rules I thought but I didn’t care. It was simply grey pants and darker grey blazer. It was believed that talent was more important than how you dressed. Presentable but simple and ready for the world of business. My mother liked the school for this attitude. As a child she always fussed that I looked unkempt and couldn't I please just wear the slacks she had ironed?

I slipped into the building easily enough and found the room. I was 10 minutes early and so I sat down by the piano. I knew some teachers hated students playing the piano unaccompanied but I needed to. I hadn’t touched an instrument in so long.

I decided to play Debussy’s Reverie. It was one of the first songs my father ever taught me. Suddenly I heard a door slam behind me. I bolted from the piano as if it was on fire.

“Please continue,” my teacher said in a commanding voice, “My apologies for my loud interruption.” So I did. But I was not thinking of the music. I was digesting what my teacher looked like. He was maybe in his 30s but dressed like someone from a much older time. A lovely full suit and a cravat. Did people even wear cravats anymore? He was dressed as if he were going to the opera. There was a slight accent I detected as French. He had black hair neatly combed but what struck her was his mask. Today someone might have a skin-toned mask but he had a white mask covering the right side of his face. 

When I finished he clapped slowly. I curtseyed because I didn’t know what else to do.

“You were early,” he commented.

“Yes sir. My parents always taught me to be ten minutes early to any occasion,” I mumbled. I tended to share too much information when I was anxious.

“Wise words. Lateness had become the latest accessory,” he laughed dryly, “In this room, you will not mumble. You will speak clearly, with purpose and loud enough. You will find I have some hearing loss. One does not make friends with organs and pianos and not lose some of their hearing.”

“Yes sir.”

“Was that Reverie?” he said thoughtfully.

“Yes sir,” I said clearer.

“I knew you were gifted in voice but I was unaware of your other abilities. Pray tell what are your other musical talents?” he said pulling a chair closer to the piano

“Well, I am trained on piano and violin. But minimal training on the flute, guitar and harp,” I said shyly. I thought when I was in 3rd grade learning the harp would make me cool but instead, I looked like a dork.

“Who taught you?”

“My father Gustav Daae and self-taught,” I said. I hadn’t said his name in so long.

“Hmm, he taught you well. If you were allowed more then one focus I would train you more on the piano but c’est la vie,” he mused, “Now I have called you here so I might judge where your skills lie. Your audition showed promise but I like to see in person how my students sound.”

“Okay. What song?” I asked.

“Something you are familiar with that shows off your range. I know you are a soprano,” he said.

“Do you know Think of Me?”

“I know all of the classical works. When you’re ready,” he said turning to the piano.

I sang. I was a bit shaky. Mother made me stop singing when I was at home. She said it was because the neighbors complained but I think it was because it reminded her of my dad. Not that she would ever admit it.

I finished and my teacher made no expression. I was unsure if I did well.

“Did I do well?” I asked.

“Your voice is certainly lovely but you are not in correct form. Your diction was sloppy and you sing without confidence,” he judged. Harsh. I had not expected the critique to be so harsh on my first go at singing.

“Oh,” I slumped my head.

“Stop it! That is part of the problem, stand up straight and own your mistakes. If you constantly slump it is no wonder you look like Quasimodo when you sing,” he said sternly.

“Yes sir,” I said standing straighter, though I would have liked to hide. I was never unconfident but his presence startled me. I wasn’t used to singing on the fly.

“You best know that our lessons will never be just 3 hours. They may go longer or shorter so it is best not make plans on lesson days. Also, if I see fit I may slot you in for more lessons on the weekends,” he said.

“Now I want you to do your scales for me start at G and go up like normal,” he said as he pounded out the scale.

He kept me in there for over an hour. I thought I had come for a simple introduction. Over and over doing scales never critiquing but silently judging me. Finally, he released me. But he had not given me his name.

“The school does not allow any mystery. Monsieur Ange,” he said simply.

\----

“So how did your meeting go?” Meg asked when she saw me climb the stairs.

“Strange. He talks in a weird way, much older. But he said out lessons will often go longer than 3 hours and he might fit me in for more classes with him,” I moaned. I loved singing with all my heart but being trapped with the same person worried me.

“Yeah, mom says he has odd habits but not to judge because he is a genius,” Meg shrugged, “I’ll never understand him.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey Meg you're good at this stuff, can you help me with problem 6 on the chem homework?” I asked in Meg’s room. We were doing homework together and both overwhelmed. I had only four subjects today but I had a month’s worth of work it seemed. 30 Calculus problems, a passage from Plato’s Republic, a chapter of history on the reformation and 15 chemistry problems. 

Meg was quite a math and science prodigy. She had already completed her math and science credit when she was a sophomore, which is why she was so far along in dance. She had told me, “I may be good at it but I don’t like to do it. There’s no creativity!”

If I had her talent my mom wouldn’t be disappointed in me. My mother never told me she thought I wasn’t using my potential but she clearly wanted me to take after her rather than my father.

“It’s an exothermic reaction, you can tell because it is giving off energy,” Meg said barely looking the question.

“I think I will have to be done for tonight,” I said looking at the clock, it was 10:30 and I was only half done.

“Yeah me too,” she said closing her Latin textbook.

“I never thought there would be so much homework,” I sighed rubbing my temple.

“Yeah, it’s not usually this bad. If I had known you I would have told you to take physics rather than Chem. Mr. Wilson, I think is an honest to God killer with the amount of work he assigns.”

“And three more classes tomorrow with homework in each,” I moaned.

“Yeah, but hey at least you will get accepted by an arts college for sure,” Meg said.

\-------

“You sound as though you hate being here. Bring in charm, this piece is meant to exude young love,” he said sternly.

I had been in my voice lesson for two hours now and I was tired. I knew I was probably going to stay late but I was eager to just go to bed. I had already finished yesterday’s homework and was in the process of today’s work. Madame Giry’s dance lesson was the hardest ever. I was good at ballet but tap was over my head. But since I hadn’t danced since last April, I was stiff and out of practice.

“I apologize,” I mumbled.

“Again with the mumbling!” he said turning to me.

“Yes sir.”

“Do you even want to be here?”

“Yes very much,” I said quickly, “I am just a bit tired.”

“Tired?” he asked, “how many classes are you taking?”

“The standard 7.”

“What are you taking?”

I told him and he looked as if he decided something, “You will drop Acting Theory. Such a stupid class for you. I could teach you better than your current teacher, Mr. Foster. That git doesn’t know stage left from stage right.”

“But I can’t. I have to take at least 7,” I said.

“I will talk to administration. You will know by tomorrow if you will continue with Mr. Foster.” Monsieur Ange seemed to act as though his decision was final.

“Yes sir,” I said, because what else was I to do?

“Now again with that last note. You seem to trail off and end weak,” he said as the last conversation did not happen. 

He did keep me late. But in the end I did not mind, it was the first time I had proper singing lessons since my father’s death. Hearing a once caged song escape; made me feel lighter, being back home meant silence. Not because my mother forbid it but her jaw would tighten and she would leave the room. I knew deep down it deeply pained her to hear me, so I just stopped.

“Beautiful,” he said as I finished the last part of the song.

“Thank you.”

“You must sing with confidence. I realize you are new here, but it is imperative you gain confidence. Your voice shows your insecurities and people will take advantage,” he said closing his binder of sheet music.

I only nodded. I was finding our conversations were very one-sided. 

“I shall see you again Thursday then,” he said picking up his stuff and leaving.


	4. Chapter 4

I received an email early the next morning informing me I no longer had Acting Theory and instead would have double lessons with my teacher. 

Nearly every night I would go to the music room. I was allowed to not have class on Fridays on the account I needed to rest my voice and memorize the new sheet music for the next lesson. I was told to talk very little on Fridays and on the weekends. I should do vocal warm-ups every day to keep my voice in check but I should do as little screaming as possible. “I know girls your age enjoy screaming” he smirked.

We went on like this for months, but in November something changed. One day I saw in a newspaper my father’s name. It was a good article proclaiming his talent but that there was an up and coming pianist who seemed as good as my father. It was a Saturday and I had no classes. I decided to go to the music hall and maybe the music room would be open. I felt I needed to play a song for my father reassuring his work was still best. I have never been sure of an afterlife but if there was I wanted him to hear the music he played so he would still know how great he was.

So I gathered some sheet music and made my way. The building was open to my surprise and so was the room. The room was dark except for a skylight that shown down on the piano. 

I set my sheet music down and sat at the piano like I was 5 again. My hands were nervous to touch the keys and my feet unsure of the pedals. I had to play. 

I decided on a lovely little number called Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. I began to slowly play the piano and picking up speed. I thought I was feeling comfortable with this song but I realized how true it was. Now more than ever I wanted to be home with my father and mother. I wanted to play sing for my dad and prepare for his concert at the Lincoln Center. 

I began to sing the lyrics the way Monsieur Ange said to. By the end I was still playing but my voice stopped. I was crying so hard, I gasped out a few words but nothing could stop the tears. Eventually, I simply stopped and just cried, I looked up at the skylight and saw the fading light. I was so distraught I barely heard the cough coming from the corner of the room.

“Who’s there?” I asked defensively, whipping around.

Coming out of the shadows was my teacher emerged.

“Forgive me. I know I’m not meant to be here,” I stammered trying to grab my things and rush out. I could get detention for this and then where would I be?

He reached a hand out to stop me as I jammed my binder of music in my bag.

“No need for apologizing. I often come here to get out when I need music’s comfort. I’m not exactly meant to be here either,” he laughed softly, “Also, I won’t write you up if that’s why you’re rushing off.”

“I must be wasting your time,” I said.

“No, you’re not. It is my time to do with how I like and I would like to know the cause of this. I do not think leaving now will solve the reason for your tears,” he said gently. His voice no longer held the sternness it usually did. He sounded almost comforting.

It was eerie, he sounded like my father. My father never left a situation until he knew everyone was calm and the problem resolved. I could never hide the reason for my tears from my father.

“I’m being foolish,” I rushed. I wanted so badly to get out.

“I don’t think you are. But if you really do think so you may leave,” he said looking me in the eye. It wasn’t my place to be baring my soul to my instructor. That was not his job.

“My father, he died a few months ago. I just saw a news article saying some new artist is the new Gustav Daae. I feel I haven’t protected his legacy enough and he is slipping away. It seems my father is becoming ‘just’ another musician,” I sobbed. I tried to keep some composure but it was just so bottled up.

“Shh,” he cooed softly. I had never seen him this gentle before. He was always making stern commands. He was like my mother in that way.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t your job.” I said fleeing. It wasn’t my place to fling my problems onto him. He was my teacher and nothing more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Checkout my new Tumblr of the same name! There’s nothing there but there should be soon!

It was late one evening and I was again finishing up homework. I looked down and noticed that someone was texting me.

Raoul: Hey Christine!

Christine: You better have a damn good explanation for not texting! It has been 2 weeks! I thought you died or something!

We had been texting since I got here but over the last couple of weeks he seemed to drop off the face of the Earth.

Raoul: Sorry. But I have a surprise!

Christine: Still!

Raoul: Well if you aren’t busy this weekend I can drive up and visit you. I was going to surprise you but…

I thought about it. It would be nice to see him. Sure I had made friends but I missed seeing Raoul every day. My mother sure wasn’t keen to visit.

Christine: Deal. Pretty please bring me those donuts from that place on 3rd street.

Raoul: Already was!

I missed Raoul. I missed home. I missed the busy streets and the fast pace life. Since coming here my mother only texted me a few times and each text to remind me to call some distant relative to wish them a happy birthday. When I called her she said she was busy but that she would call me right back. Never did. It kind of hurt that she wasn’t the affectionate mother most people had. But I couldn’t wait for the weekend. 

My teacher had me working at all hours. There was class and then the mountains of homework. Sometimes he assigned seemed pointless but if I asked he cut me off. I wondered why he cared so much. After my little confession of sorts we had steered clear of anything personal. Our time was strictly for working. I was hoping he would forget it. Besides we were making progress.

WEEKEND  
It was 9:37 and I was eager for Raoul to visit. NYU wasn’t terribly far, but adjusting to college life when you are a year younger than everyone else must be hard so I understood why he hadn’t come up. I didn’t want him missing out on friendships on my account. I didn’t want to be that possessive girlfriend. I was standing on the island in the parking lot. I saw Raoul’s beat up car. It had been his brother’s. I had asked him several times why he didn’t t just buy a new one. His family wasn’t exactly poor. “It works,” Raoul remarked.

He barely parked when I opened his door and hugged him. “Well hi pretty,” he smiled and kissed me.

Raoul looked different. Of course, we both had Facebook but he never changed his profile picture from the one of us in Time Square. All of his other pictures were of artsy coffee or “deep” quotes. He had scruff on his face. He smelled different. In high school he was a jock, but now he looked like a dime a dozen hipster. But at that moment I spied the red polka dot box.

“You got them!”

“Yep went at the crack of dawn, I know how much you like those double chocolate ones.”

“MMMMmmm,” I smiled.

We walked toward my building. I signed him in at the front desk and brought him up. Meg saw me and shot me a thumbs up. Last night told her about him and when I showed him a picture of him she made that aww sound girls make.

When we were in my room, door open, we had our small feast. I was mostly silent as he talked about NYU. He seemed so happy and carefree. But soon the donuts were gone and Raoul said, “Hey maybe show me around the campus?”

“Raoul I’m too full!” I whined and patted my stomach and groaning.

“Come on! I wouldn’t want you to turn into a blob right here.” He pulled me up and I grabbed my jacket.

So I showed him my campus. I showed him the fountain with the missing heads. I walked him through my class schedule, but it wasn’t that impressive. Campus was small and we walked the course in 20 minutes. Raoul checking his phone the entire time which annoyed me. But I didn’t want to ruin the day with a petty fight. But then something happened. My music teacher was walking from the parking lot to presumably the music hall. He certainly saw us. His eyes shot up ever so slightly and continued to walk.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s my vocal teacher. “

“What’s with the mask?”

“Don’t know. He never said.”

“Didn’t you ask?”

“How could I? He always cuts me off and tells me ‘I have more important things to think about’,” I shrugged. I had been wondering the same. But my teacher seemed pretty intent on not telling me his secrets

We continued our walk. I noticed on the roof of the music hall my teacher was standing. It was odd. It was like he was watching us. But that was crazy; he had better things to do.

Raoul headed back pretty soon after our walk. He seemed eager to head back. I didn’t mind. He seemed distant the whole time. The only time I felt the real Raoul was really here was when we first kissed. But the whole time he been checking his phone or talking about himself. Of course Raoul was kind but it wasn’t the same. Had a few months really estranged us?

MONDAY

“So who was the ‘gentleman’ you were with this past Saturday?” His voice betrayed a tinge of anger. 

“Oh Raoul.” I turned back to my music sheets. Why did he care? This was the only time my teacher had talked about something other then music. 

“Your brother?” he pressed on.

“My boyfriend… if you must know,” I said slowly. I was looking at his face, or what I could see, and I saw his eyes grow angrier.

“This won’t do.”

“What?”

“Relationships. With the track you’re on now you do not have time for such frivolity. That was time you could have used on learning this score.”

“Excuse me if I want some fun. With your lessons, school and general loneliness I deserve a few hours of ‘frivolity’ as you say!” I huffed. I was angry. How dare he try and control my life. Everyone else was having a fine time doing so.

“Oh Christine,” he said softer, “I apologize if I have been causing you undue distress. But I only wish to see you succeed. A relationship will muddy the waters and distract you.”

“Not like it matters,” I said picking up my binder and putting it in my backpack. Class was almost over and I wanted to leave.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Alright?”

“Christine did something happen? Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my judgment.”

“No.” My teacher simply cocked his eyebrow at me. “Really nothing. Raoul acted all distant and changed.” I decided to say to drop the subject. 

“Hmm. I see. If I might interject my opinion I think you should part ways with him.”

“That seems like an exaggeration.”

“Do what you think is best.” he waved his hand in signal class was over.

So class ended. I was left with his words. Would it be right to break up with Raoul? We’ve gone through spells like this before.


	6. Chapter 6

I was sitting at my laptop drumming my fingers on how to start my essay for Classical European Lit. I just couldn’t bring myself to care about Hamlet’s plight. It wasn’t that I did not understand the play, but that my mind was buzzing. The spring musical audition sign up sheet went up. This year it was _The Addams Family_ and I had, of course, signed up. I had written I wanted to be a member fo the ensemble. It would be wrong to ask for a leading role if I had not built my way up.

The second thing on my mind was the spring showcase for seniors. Every year the senior class had a concert where the best and most promising students showed off their skill. Only about 20 got selected and auditions for that were in a few weeks. I had yet to sign up for a spot. I had not received proper training and to go into the audition thinking I was somehow one of the best seemed like bombastic egotism. 

I tried to clear my head and start this essay. It was due in two days and I had been tiptoeing around it. But then my phone lit up and I picked it up to see Raoul was calling me.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Christine.”

“Umm, what’s up?” I asked. He had called me so I didn’t really have much to say.

“Not much. So, Christine are we good?" 

“What do you mean by good?”

“Well, when I saw you, things felt different. Like you were distant." 

My face became red and I felt my nails dig into the desk. “Distant?” I all but yelled. 

“Yeah.”

“How can you say that? You kept checking your phone and it seemed like you weren’t interested in what I was saying.”

“Well, I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t care. Things have just been busy.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” Sure I was being a little petty but it felt good.

“Please Christine, you have to understand. University is different from high school. University is hard..” Raoul said before I cut in, “Hard? You think what I am doing is easy? Do you thinking spending hours in tap shoes and then doing calculus is easy?”

“I’m not saying what you're doing is easy but it’s the arts.” Who was I even speaking to? My high school Raoul was creative and loved art. We became a couple in theater. I was playing Liesl in our school's production fo _The Sound of Music_ and he was the stage manager. 

“I don’t even know you! You used to know that the arts are no less important than the sciences. Has studying business really changed you?” 

“No. But I understand that life is more than pretty costumes and getting the lead role,” Raoul argued. We never argued like this. We had little spats every now and then but ti was never us attacking each other’s goals.

“Raoul, I can see we are no longer who we were. Maybe we should break up.” The words were out of my mouth faster than anything. Where did I get this new found boldness? I was certainly never a doormat but I was never the one to make bold proclamations.

“Christine, please we can work this out. I don’t think breaking up is the right choice,” his words were sincere but his tone lacked any real emotion. He sounded like he was saying it just to be nice.

“No. we bot realize we are at different places in our lives. You are at university and I am finishing up high school. We aren’t the same anymore. Our childhood and growing up together will always be special but I want to keep those memories instead fo a horrible breakup.”

I remembered when I first met him. We were both at summer camp. We became fast friends when my scarf had flown into the lake and he had fetched it for me. He had been shouted at for wading into a algae trash filled lake, but from that moment we liked to think of ourselves as brave explorers. We spent the summer laughing and it wasn’t until high school we would see each other again. He and I had been separated for nearly 5 years. But when I saw him in that auditorium we picked up like nothing had changed.

“Well, if that is what you want. I will respect your choice. I want us to stay friends though, “ he said.

“Sure,” I murmured. It was all I could do to not burst into tears. 

We hung up and I just went to my bed and cried. It was the right choice. It was inevitable really. But my teacher was right. Through those hours of lessons and being told to be bold and confident, I was finally putting it into use. But I wish it didn’t have to be like this.


	7. Chapter 7

Meg noticed my distress that morning at breakfast. I couldn’t be bothered to put any makeup on and my blotchy red skin and eyes gave it away. Anyone who didn’t know I was a singer would probably assume I was high. I wasn’t listening to anything and I was staring into oblivion.

“Christine, do you wanna?” Meg asked dumping more hot sauce on her eggs. 

“I’m sorry Meg I wasn't listening,” I apologized again. 

“I said, “ Meg let out a small sigh of annoyance, “do you want to ditch our classes?”

“We can't do that!” I stammered.

“Shhh!” Meg looked around to make sure a teacher wasn’t listening and continued, “Why not? We don't have dance so my mother would never know!”

I considered this offer. It was Wednesday, which meant I did not have classes with either my teacher, nor with Ms. Giry Those were the only two that would notice my absence. No one would have to know. No one would know. People ditched their classes all of the time. I had only ditched once when I was a freshman and teachers here didn’t know that. Why shouldn’t I take a day?

“Yeah, let’s do it,” I smiled.

After breakfast, we walked to our perspective classes. Meg insisted we do this because her mother had an eye like a hawk. Our plan was to only skip our morning classes. Given that this was a spur of the moment plan we had not prepared. We had no food for lunch so we had to go to lunch. Besides Meg said that her afternoon French class had a test that she couldn’t miss.

I walked towards my class and at the last moment detoured into the music hall. We planned to meet in a sound booth. No one would be able to hear us and those rooms were always unlocked during the day.

I found a booth and slipped inside. A few minutes later I heard a knock and Meg came in. “Whew! My mother was following me until the last second.”

 “Does your mom ever take her eyes off of you?” I laughed.

“No. I think when I go to college she will follow me! She was possibly joking that if I got accepted to Julliard she would go back to working at there. I hope I don’t get accepted!”

“That’s silly. If you get accepted to Julliard you should absolutely go!”

 “Maybe. I don’t really want to go to university and just start my career you know?”

 “Same. But My mother would just have a heart attack,” I sighed. My mother was dead set on my going to college. She would prefer me to go get a “serious” degree but she could tolerate my going to further my singing. But the mere thought of my not attending university was unimaginable.

“So Christine, tell me. Why are we here?”

“You offered.”

“Not why we are in this room, but what has you in a tizzy? You looked stoned!”

“Well, Raoul and I broke up.” I jus came out and said it. Since our breakup I had a text composed on my phone begging Raoul to forgive me. I knew It was the right decision but he was something form my old life. Someone who knew what I had gone through. I wanted him back but I think it was because he was just so familiar.

“No! Christine, you didn’t!” Meg said behind her hand over her open mouth. She never met him but her reaction was as if she had set us up.

“Yeah,” I explained what went down and showed her my texts. She scrutinized them and handed the phone back.

“I would say that is the best possible break that could have happened,” she said honestly. Unlike my friends back home who would pretend to hate the guy and act like he was the devil, Meg said what she meant. It was refreshing to know what I had done was all right, that I wasn’t a heartless monster. 

I was telling her how I felt when suddenly someone walked past. We got silence and moved to sit behind the rolling chair as if that would hide us any better. We had been in the middle of the room and stupidly never considered someone might walk past and look in.

“Think they’re gone?” Meg whispered. 

“Yeah. Did you see who it was?” I asked.

“Didn’t see. The foot steps were heavy so probably some guy.” I rolled my eyes, we had started watching  _Sherlock_ and Meg liked to think of herself as a female Sherlock Holmes.

“So do you have an eye a new guy?” she asked resuming our conversation.

“Ha! No, but really what’s the point? We graduate in a little less than 7 months! No one wants to get into a relationship and then break up because they can’t keep up the long distance. Did you just seem what happened?”

“I guess so. By the way, are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

It was only a week until Thanksgiving break. I was less than eager to go home. My mother was going to be gone most of the time anyways but I haven’t seen her much less properly talked to her.

 “Yeah, probably.”

 “Well, my mother invited you to Thanksgiving with us if you didn’t want to go home. I don’t think she knows you only live a couple of hours farm here, but the offer is open none the less,” Meg said excitedly.

I considered the offer. “I’ll talk to my mother. But belive me I would love to!”

 “If you can’t come for Thanksgiving day, my mother also said you were also welcome to stay the remaining rest of the week," Meg continued,  "Just let me know."

 “Don’t you have family that comes over?”

“Usually we do but most of them are either on tour or uninvited,” Meg said conspiratorially. She had mentioned how many of her family members were failed AA members. It was apparently a great source of shame for Ms. Giry, as she had come from a family broken by alcoholism.

“What’s your Thanksgiving deal?”

“Well, when my father was alive he would bring his orchestra friends. A lot of people would be here in New York for rehearsals for the Christmas concert at Lincoln Center or wherever and they wouldn’t have a place to have Thanksgiving. My father always invited them.”

 “Thant sounds amazing! Eating with all of the big name musicians,” Meg sighed wistfully.

 “It was pretty awesome. My mother actually enjoyed this because it gave her a chance to give out her business card.” 

“Geez, your mom sounds cold.” I wasn’t surprised my Meg’s statement.

“She’s not cold, just calculating. She came from poverty and worked her way to where she was. She had to fight with everything she had to afford medical school. She just fears losing what she has.”

“I’m sorry I said that that was rude,” Meg apologized.

“No, you didn’t say anything offensive. I would think my mother was cold if I wasn’t her daughter.”

 “What do you think you’ll do this year?” Meg said gingerly. She knew the topic of my father’s passing was still a tender spot.

 “I really don’t know. Certainly not eat turkey. My mom is a vegetarian. Dad always made the turkey,” I laughed.

 We looked down at our watches and realized it was lunch already. Where had the time gone? We both picked ourselves up and ran to the cafeteria. We had 10 minutes to eat before our classes would start.

Late that afternoon after classes I checked my mailbox. Every student had a mail box for receiving mail or receiving notices from the school. When I opened the box I noticed a piece of paper. I pulled it out and my blood ran cold.

_Christine,_

_I know you skipped your morning classes._

How did he know? Then it hit me that person who passed the door had to be my teacher. Damn! I didn’t know what to do with this. Would he be angry? Should I just be honest? I would have to see him tonight. Since dropping Acting Theory I had lessons with him an hour after dinner on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I had 1 hour to come up with an excuse or something to say.

Finally, I could not hold off on walking to the music hall. I knew he hated tardiness and if I was late on top of this morning he would not be pleased.

When I reached the room I took a deep breath and opened the door. I saw my teacher as usual in the corner and his eyes fixed to where I was standing. 

“You know, you’re not my father. You don’t have any right to berate me for ditching,” I stated. I guess I had decided to go for the ‘you don’t own’ me approach.

“That may be but you may forget that I am also a teacher here at this institution. I can write you a detention slip,” he said dryly. 

It was kind of easy to forget that he was just another teacher. I had come to consider him to be his own entity outside of the school but of course he was a teacher. I was not a goody two shoes by any means but I knew my mother would force me to attend a non- arts college if I got into trouble here. She had told me that if I couldn’t prove my serious devotion to the arts than she wasn’t going to fund it.

“I won’t write you up if you can honestly tell me what you were doing.”

“Well, it sounds silly and I can’t hope that you will have any sympathy but I broke up with my boyfriend and I was feeling kind of shitty.” The word escaped me. I would frame my words more politely but I when he commanded something I felt the urge to comply.

“Hmm. I see. I may seem cold and unfeeling but I can understand loss,” he said pleased, “I am convinced that you were recovering from an emotional shock and would never normally skip classes. I also believe that I did not even walk past a certain sound booth.”

“Thank you,” I sighed in relief, “will you tell Meg’s mother?”

“Start your warm-ups,” he gestured to me as he sat at the piano. I took his absent answer as a no.

The lesson went very well, better now that I knew I was out of trouble. It could be said that this was the best lesson until at the end of the class he mentioned, “I noticed you didn’t sign up for auditions for the Senior Showcase.”

“Umm no.” A sinking feeling hit my stomach because I could guess what he was about to say.

“You must sign up.”

“I shouldn’t. It would seem like I was boasting that I was so great. I mean I haven’t attended this school for the last 3 years. It would seem wrong that a public school nobody should talk the place of a seasoned student.”

“Doesn’t matter what people think. This is the chance to possibly land a spot with a company or school,” he paused considered, “I cannot force you as that would show favoritism, but I would strongly encourage you. Otherwise, these lessons are pointless and I will have to end these lessons. Your choice.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” I stammered.

“No, but there would be little point of special training if the intent was not to show off your talent,” he face was impassive. Maybe it was because of the mask or maybe he just looked that way.

“I will consider it.” He had me backed up into a corner. Of course, I was going to sign up.

“Also, the matter of your signing up for an ensemble role in the upcoming musical,” he continued.

“I suppose you think I should also sign up for a leading role?”

“Exactly. A voice like yours is not meant for the chorus.” I nodded. What else could I do?

“Lastly,” he stood up and collected his papers and I braced for another request, “I shall be absent from teaching for the remainder of the week. I apologize I should have told you sooner.”

“Leaving early for break?” I asked innocently enough. His reaction seemed like I had pried into his office or secrets. I hadn't meant to imply anything. 

“Yes-yes you could say that,” he composed himself then and finished, “so I would like you to learn these pieces while I am gone and during your break.”

“Okay.”

“The rules still apply even on break. No unnecessary screaming and warm-ups every day.” With that he motioned I could leave and he left.

Instead of walking back to the dorm rooms I veered off into the cafeteria. This was where the sign up sheet were posted I I decided now was as good of a time as any to appease him. When I saw the sign up sheet for  _The Addams Family_ I saw that my name was already crossed off. It pissed me off a little to know how much he was controlling. I signed my name next to Wednesday Addams. Next I looked at the Showcase sheet and wrote my name. The sheet had nearly everyone’s name from the senior class.

Satisfied that I had satisfied him I walked back to my room. I was actually a little happy I wouldn’t have voice lessons for the rest of the week. I had a big chemistry test on Friday and I was not ready. 

 


End file.
